


Peace

by CosmicCole



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Peter has a thing for praise, Peter is sulky, Peter is working on his mental health, Peter swears, Some angst, Tony is bossy, Tony loves it, aged up character, fluffy and smutty, okay a little more than some angst it gets kinda angsty for a lil bit, peter and tony are both switches fight me, slight OOC but who really cares?, some mentions of self-loathing and suicidal ideation, tony is so supportive and patient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-03-29 14:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicCole/pseuds/CosmicCole
Summary: Post-Endgame (so ya know, spoilers or whatever) Starker ficlet. Maybe multi-chaptered or just a one-shot I really don’t know. Peter is twenty-two and Tony gets brought back from the dead and is only a little bitter about it. Peter is not the goofy, bubbly boy, but a quiet man and is also taller than Tony now. Yeah this is really just me manipulating characters and their ages to satisfy my Starker needs.





	1. Chapter 1

“How long has it been?”

 

“Five years.”

 

Tony Stark has been freshly brought back to life and was happy to see that his morbid sense of irony was still intact. Five years since he snapped his fingers and suffered his death, a painful, gruesome thing. Five years, just like those who had been erased during the first snap. It felt like a weird fever dream, he barely remembered it. The pain, the fear, Pepper’s voice, Peter’s sobs. They all seemed so far away and almost unreal. He couldn’t even remember what it was like being dead. Not really. Just warmth, the feeling of floating and peace. He had not known peace most of his life. Death had given that to him when nothing else could.

 

He almost missed it. Almost.

 

“You must have a lot of questions,” it’s Sam who speaks to him, but he’s dressed like Cap? Odd. Wanda stands quiet and pale in the background.

 

“Only one, actually. Where’s my daughter?”

 

 

 

Morgan is almost ten. Seeing her shakes Tony to his core. Rhodey supports him with a firm hand on his shoulder. Tony is ashamed that he asks to leave before he gets the courage to go to her. Maybe seeing her hug another man, her mother kissing his cheek, the family smiling happily without him has something to do with it. He was glad they had moved on, but in a sick way he wished they hadn’t. Anger welled inside him and he decided the family reunion would be best left for another day when his emotions weren’t so hot.

 

“Do they know I’m alive?” 

 

“No Tony, we didn’t tell them anything. We didn’t know if we could even bring you back.” Sam admits back at the tower. Sam is Captain America now. Steve is an old man. So much has changed. His family is gone, strangers to him now and he is struck with bitterness at the unfairness of it all. Of course he didn’t want them to brood but-

 

“Mr. Stark?”

 

Everyone turns to look at the man who just walked in. Peter Parker is alive. He’s gripping the doorframe so hard it cracks. Not the boy Tony knew, but still the same Peter. Tears are welling in his eyes.

 

“Is this real?”

 

“We were going to tell you-“

 

“I’m real.” Tony interrupts his fellow Avenger. At least Peter missed him.

 

Peter walks to him slowly, almost like he’s unsure. Scared that Tony may slip away. 

 

“Mr. Stark?” He asks again, his voice shaking.

 

Tony almost laughs. Peter has to be twenty two now. Still calling him Mr. Stark.

 

“Tony. You can just call me Tony now. God look at you Pete,” Tony rises and Peter is on him, clinging to him. He’s taller than Tony now, his face buried into Tony’s neck as he cries quietly. Would Pepper weep like this? Would Morgan?

 

“Oh god,” Peter groans, voice thick with pain, “Oh god I can’t believe you came back.”

 

Suddenly the room is empty, save the two of them. Only a few people had been there to begin with, the Avengers seemed to be mighty busy these days, but it was odd how they all slipped away. It filled Tony with worry. The pain in Peter’s voice, the way they all left. What had happened to Peter while he was away?

 

Dead. Away. Gone. Weird. 

 

Tony gripped him tightly. “Hey, Pete, c’mon its okay. I’m here. I’m okay.”

 

“I was so alone-“ he chokes out.

 

“Alone?” Dread twists Tony’s stomach. “What about May.”

 

Peter shakes his head and Tony clutches him tighter. “Damn, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

 

The man peels himself away suddenly, embarrassed. He stares at the floor, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his palms. “Three years ago, I lost her. Nothing has felt right. My parents, her, Ben, you.”

 

He eyes Tony, and Tony can see what pain has done to them. The spark, the joy, the passion in his eyes is dulled. Pain has taken from Peter in more ways than he deserved. 

 

“Pete,” Tony grips his shoulder. There’s not much that can be said. A hero’s life, as it seems, is one of pain. Tony can only hope that the pain doesn’t change Peter Parker in the way it had changed others, changed him. Pain and fear had shaped Tony in an anxiety riddled mess, it took years to bounce back the first time Tony had truly tasted death in the cold grips of space. 

 

“It’s okay,” Peter eyes him quietly, “I’m okay. I just-“ he inhales, trying to calm his nerves. “I’m really glad you’re back Mr. Stark. Tony. I’m glad you’re alive Tony.”

 

Tony smiles, slight but sure. 

 

“Oh man, I guess you’ll be wanting your workshop back,” Peter let’s out a half-formed chuckle. “I tried to take over making gadgets and equipment for the Avengers while you were gone. I’m afraid I’m barely a shadow of your talent though. You have been missed.”

 

Tony shakes his head, “I don’t believe that for a second. Show me what you’ve been working on?”

 

A day in the workshop with Peter seems to be what they both needed. Slowly a spark comes back to Peter, and Tony is glad that he hasn’t been worn down too much by loss. He studies Peter quietly while they work on projects together and discuss the equipment modifications and ideas Peter has been toying with. He’s scarred now, the lines faint and barely visible across his arms, a few on his face, his shoulders. It aches Tony that he couldn’t protect him, couldn’t keep him safe like he had promised May. He wants to ask, wants to chastise Peter and ask if he’s been reckless, but he can see that Peter is barely together and doesn’t wish to ruin the only relationship he really has anymore. 

 

Peter has become more clever and brilliant, despite how he cut himself down earlier, Tony felt that in certain areas Peter had now become the master and Tony the student. His problem solving skills are excellent, his ideas innovative and crafty. 

 

“You know, when you said you weren’t as good as me I thought you were selling yourself short. Now I’m sure of it. Peter, this stuff is brilliant,” Tony notes, marveling at his creativity.

 

Peter Parker blushes and scratches the back of his head. “I’ve had a lot of time on my hands. They don’t let me do much hero work after-“

 

Peter stops, catching himself and Tony arches and eyebrow.

 

“After what?”

 

Peter remains silent and unmoving for a moment, but Tony can see his eyes are calculating, unsure. Finally he sighs and peels off his tank top. Tony would marvel at how perfectly sculpted Peter’s body has become. Except it’s not perfect, his chest, right in the center, is a gnarled mass of angry, twisted scars. 

 

“What,” Tony touches them gently, his breath catching, “Peter, what happened?”

 

Peter looks away. Shame? “Revenge made me stupid, careless, slow. Maybe I wanted it to end? I don’t know. I messed up.”

 

He doesn’t explain any further. He seems pained, lost, caught in a past where everyone he loved and cared for was taken from him. 

 

Tony cries then. The tears fall before he can catch them. He cries over the happy, passionate boy who grew into a sad, scarred man. He cries for the daughter he never had enough time with, the wife and mother he lost to another man. He cries for himself, for his friends, for their loss and his. The world he returned to is full of life, but it is not the one he knew. 

 

He is vaguely aware of Peter, wrapping him in his strong arms, kissing away his tears. So gentle. Such kindness. Peter Parker has not deserved the pain he endured. He’s barely aware of his own voice, murmuring apologies, mourning the unfairness of it all. Peter’s lips are soft on his cheeks, his own eyes water and Tony realizes how hard this must be for him. His mentor returned too late, too broken, too confused at this life. It seems that even though some things had been lost, there were new things to gain. 

 

Peter kisses him, gently, comforting, and Tony welcomes it. The lips against his bring him back to himself, his tears stop falling, his head clears, his heart wells. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, though he doesn’t seem very sorry as he studies Tony for a reaction. 

 

Tony shakes his head, enjoying the comfort Peter has to offer. “Don’t be.”

 

They stay like that for a bit, Tony wrapped up in Peter’s arms and Peter watching him, his expression unreadable. Tony realizes that they have both lost, and that they are alike in more ways he had realized before death. It’s as comforting a thought as Peter’s embrace.

 

“I really did miss you,” Peter finally speaks, and Tony realizes the arms around him are just as much for him as the are for the young man holding him. “You meant more to me than you ever knew. I don’t think I even realized what exactly you meant to me until it was too late.”

 

His voice is soft, the admittance seems shaky and unsure. Tony understands what he’s saying, what Peter truly lost was more than a mentor. 

 

“I never got over it, over you,” Peter explains. 

 

Tony feels weird, confused. The Peter Parker he knew was just a boy, the Peter Parker who held him now and kissed away his tears is a man. Tony had always felt a deep fondness, excitement and pride over the boy who he had been. He had been fiercely protective of him and held a special place in his heart for the young hero. What stirred inside him now was similar, but different. The closeness he felt to the man now was new to him. They shared death, life and loss. They were both tragic geniuses who had lost their families. It was almost surreal, the kinship he felt with Peter was comforting and soothed his sorrow and rage.

 

Tony nodded, understanding why Peter felt so lost, so hopeless. Their foreheads pressed together and Tony closed his eyes. Peace. Fleeting and fragile, but still the feeling of calmness and peace washed over him.

 

“I’m glad to be back Peter.”

 

 

 

Tony spent two weeks holed up inside the Avengers’ tower, seeking little company or interaction but Peter’s. They had developed a strange relationship. Touching too long, sitting too close, staying up late and speaking in gentle tones. They even slept in the same bed. The other’s surely noticed, but it was his friend Rhodey who is the first to speak on it.

 

“So, are you ever going to see your family?”

 

Tony flinches and notices the way Peter freezes for a moment. His smile is tight when he excuses himself from the meeting room and makes his way to the workshop.

 

“I guess I should make sure they want to see me first,” Tony replies, hating how bitter he sounds. Thinking of his family and how he had been replaced twists his heart with jealousy.

 

“Of course they want to see you.” His friend snaps, angry. “Spider-man is not the only one who suffered in your absence.”

 

Tony sighs, releasing some of his anger and really studies his friend. He sees pain in his eyes, of course. While he had been busy sulking and hiding in the comfort of Peter and the tower, his friends and family had been missing him.

 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he admits, clasping his friend’s shoulder. “It’s been hard, everything is different and it felt like everyone moved on except-“

 

“Except Peter,” Rhodey sighs. “I know. After May...” he trails off, thinking and choosing his words carefully before he continues, “Tony, the kid tried to kill himself. He couldn’t, didn’t work, healed too fast. Then he got reckless, violent. He was killing criminals, throwing himself to the wolves. When Scorpion almost killed him we benched him, locked him up here. He got better, slowly. He started fighting again, we let him come on missions, but he hasn’t been the same. He’s suffered a lot.”

 

“But Tony,” his friend studies him. “We all have. Everyone had mourning to do, healing to do. Your family and friends? We didn’t move on to spite you. We moved on to honor you, to try to salvage what we could of our lives. Your wife and daughter may have moved on, but they haven’t replaced you or forgotten you. Go to them.”

 

Tony sits quietly, soaking everything in. He’s right of course. 

 

And so Tony goes to see his wife and daughter.

 

 

 

Morgan cries for thirty minutes and won’t let go of his hand for as long as he’s there. She doesn’t ask how he came back or how long he’s been back, she just bathes in the love of the man she had lost. They play together, she tells him all about school and even mentions how nice Craig, her step-father, is. “Although he isn’t as funny.”

 

Pepper, for her credit, only looks a little mad and incredibly pleased. She’s happy he’s alive, although she’s annoyed when he says he’s been back for two weeks. Her gaze pierces him but she lets it slide, happy to have him back. She introduces Craig. A history teacher. A fine man. A gentle, normal, average guy. She invites him to stay for dinner and after he tucks Morgan in and goes to make his leave she stops him in the hall. She says nothing for a moment, and then levels with him.

 

“I’m not going to apologize for Craig,” she begins.

 

“I wouldn’t want you to Pep,” Tony responds. Even though it hurts.

 

“He’s a good man, and I know he won’t get himself killed trying to save the world. Not that I blame you. I could never stop you, I made my peace years ago that you would likely die a hero, leaving me a widow.” Tony flinches but she continues.

 

“I don’t mean that to hurt you Tony. You have more kindness in you than you ever gave yourself credit for and I knew what I was getting myself into. Still, she doesn’t know that. She didn’t sign up for that.”

 

She stares at him, making sure he catches her drift. “You’ve been given a second chance at life Tony. I don’t know how and I don’t really care. Don’t make your daughter bury you again. She deserves to have you in her life until you’re old and grey, so be careful. Our door is always open, and you can visit her any time.”

 

She pauses and hugs him. “I love you Tony. I’m glad your back. Don’t waste this life.”

 

They part and he wipes tears from his eyes. “I won’t.” He promises. He says goodbye to her and Craig and makes his leave. He feels content. There’s a melancholic ache in his heart, but he is not bitter anymore. His family still want him in their lives. They need him.

 

 

 

He returns to the tower and goes to his old room, the one Peter reclaimed. Peter said he had made it his own after May died. Couldn’t bare to be in the home she had died in. Said being in Tony’s old room gave him comfort. 

 

Peter was in the room, reading. When Tony entered he eyed him, his gaze guarded but Tony could still feel the pain and fear that lingers in his eyes. Tony pushes the book away and climbs into his lap, kissing Peter. 

 

He can feel Peter relax under him, could feel the tension slip away as they kissed, different from their first and only kiss two weeks prior. This time it was Tony who’s lips reassured and comforted Peter. 

 

“Thought you were gonna leave me,” Peter breathes out between kisses, his hands wandering, clinging.

 

“Never again.”

 

Peter moans as Tony kisses his ear, his skin lights up with goosebumps. His breath picks up slightly as Tony licks the shell of his ear.

 

“Never again.” Tony repeats. Firm. Peter grips his shoulders, pulling back. His pupils are blown out, his gaze is hungry.

 

“I want you.”

 

“I know.” Tony kisses him again.

 

Peter groans. Tony can feel him, hard and needy beneath him. Oh to be young again, Tony thinks and feels himself hardening as well.

 

“Tony, is, is this okay?”

 

Tony doesn’t understand. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

Peter studies him, looking for something. Tony can’t tell what, doesn’t get why Peter hesitates. 

 

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

 

Ah, suddenly it clicks into place for Tony. He’s still afraid, still wounded. He kisses his forehead, his nose, his eyes, his lips. Peter’s lashes flutter. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere kid.”

 

Peter grins a little wickedly. “Kid?” He snorts, gripping a fistful of Tony’s hair so suddenly it makes him gasp.

 

“I’m not a kid anymore Tony. I’m not the boy you knew.”

 

His hips grind up, proving a point and Tony moans as they make contact. 

 

“God, no, you’re not.”

 

The Peter Parker he knew wouldn’t grab his hair, kiss him, rake his nails over Tony’s back as their hips grind together. The boy is gone, Tony knows that. He gets the man, the one so like him. He almost chokes on his moan when Peter grabs a handful of the elder’s ass.

 

“Christ, Pete, you’re killing me,” Tony gasps.

 

“No,” Peter kisses his exposed chest, pulls at the elder’s nipple with his teeth. Tony lets out a wrecked sound. “You’re killing me, Tony.”

 

Tony can feel how hard he is, his own hardness has come full on and aches in his pants, longing to be touched. He isn’t sure what happens next. Doesn’t know who is take take who, isn’t sure if he wants to pin Peter down and fuck into him or if he wants Peter to do the same to him. He’s frustrated, needy, and a little lost. It had been years since he had been with a man or anyone for that matter. Death was funny that way, it felt like moments since he had been with the woman he loved but it had been years for everyone else. 

 

“Want you to ride me, Tony,” Peter mewls into his ear, voice velvet and thick. Tony groans, now there’s an idea. Brilliant Peter Parker. 

 

“Fuck-“ he hisses, climbing off him to peel off his pants. “You got any lube?”

 

Peter blushes a bit then, and Tony glimpses the innocent boy he once knew. Embarrassed and easily excited.

 

“Top drawer,” he nods to the dresser. Tony half trips out of his pants making his way over to it and fishes it out. When he turns around, Peter is sliding his pants and boxers off his perfect hips, exposing his thick, leaking cock. The head is flushed pink, desperate and aching. Tony climbs back over him, rocking his hips as their cocks slide over each other.

 

“Gimme that,” Peter moans out, snatching the lube and squeezing a generous amount into his hand before he grips their cocks and tugs lazily. They both moan and swear, Tony grips the headboard, back arching and Peter abandons the lube to grip his hip hard enough to bruise. Tony loves it. His hips cant, their cocks rubbing together and slip-sliding in Peter’s hand.

 

“Fuck,  Tony ,” he groans, his leaking cock mixes with the lube. His skin is flushed from his ears to his dick and Tony thinks it may be the most beautiful, debauched thing he’s ever seen. Peter’s hands retreat from his hip and their cocks, he squeezes more lube into his hands, grinning when Tony groans at the loss of contact.

 

“Kiss me,” he hums and Tony does, their tongues sliding, everything pink and warm. Then Peter’s fingers are pressing into him. Two at once and Tony growls, savoring the pain and pleasure mix of Peter stretching him open. His other hand goes back to working their cocks, his mouth is as skillful as his hands as he melts the pain away until their is only pleasure. They moan and swear into each other’s mouth, and when Peter pulls his hands away and reaches for the lube, Tony catches his hand, lines himself up and sinks down onto Peter. Peter swears perfectly, a funny thing coming from his mouth. Tony groans, feeling impossibly stretched and full of life for the first time since his resurrection weeks before. He is still for a moment, waiting for the burn to subside. He should have let Peter stretch him more, but he prefers it this way. While Tony adjusts to his size, Peter strokes his cock lazily, kissing his neck and chest.

 

“You feel so good,” he groans, “So hot. Fuck Tony.  _Fuck_ .” 

 

Tony is too old to be embarrassed by the praise, but it goes straight to the hardness between his legs and relaxes his muscles. He gives an experimental roll of his hips and they moan together. Peter’s hands come to his hips, digging in again. His eyes are hooded, glazed with pleasure and Tony makes sure to stare right at him as he rises up and sinks back onto him again. Their pace is slow, then fast, then slow again, coming and going like a tide. Peter’s grip becomes softer, his desperation wanes until there’s nothing left but passion and gentleness. They fuck without urgency, savoring each other’s sounds, body, and heat. Peter lets himself fall back into the pillows and watch Tony. Words of praise and adoration spilling from his lips as they move. When Tony’s stamina fails him, Peter displays his strength by grabbing Tony’s ass and bouncing him up and down and Tony comes undone at the action. He throws his head back, moaning and swearing, calling out Peter’s name. Peter swears as his nails dig in. Tony finds his strength, angles himself  just right  and he’s so close. He feels light and needy. Peter’s hands leave his ass, he jerks Tony off in time with their thrusts.

 

“Come. Come Tony fuck  _please_ ,” Peter begs. Tony gives, he comes, moaning and swearing, the words give way to Peter’s name. Peter holds him through the intensity of his orgasm and whines out a moan, coming into his mentor. They go still, breathing heavily, enjoying the feel of one another. Tony feels giddy and young again, shaking his head as he comes back to himself. 

 

“God,” he breathes.

 

“Actually my name is Peter Parker but I’m flattered,” Peter grins. Tony laughs. They peel apart from each other, sticky and warm. The cold air feels pleasant.

 

Tony showers first, the hot water soothes the aches in his body. When he gets out he can still feel Peter’s body, his fullness. He savors it, kissing Peter’s head and urging him to shower while he strips the bed, replaces the sheets. He feels normal, or as normal as he can in this new life. When Peter returns he wraps himself around Tony from behind, inhales the scent of his freshly washed hair. Tony turns in his arms and absently traces over the scar on his chest.

 

“How did you guys bring me back anyway?” Tony asks, suddenly curious. He hadn’t asked. Part of him had been afraid of the answer.

 

“Magic.”

 

“Haha.” Tony retorts sarcastically.

 

“I’m serious. Wanda used magic to bring you back, or whatever it is that her powers are. She’s much stronger than any of us ever thought. Took her years to perfect it and control it. We were close after you...left. After May died we became even closer. She tried to help me,” he trailed off. Back to that place of pain. Tony touched his cheek.

 

“Peter?”

 

“She tried to help me, but I didn’t want her to. Didn’t want anyone to help me. Wanted to die,” he admits, quiet and small. Tony sees the boy again. So hurt. “Think I would have if she hadn’t saved me.”

 

He touches the scar on his chest and Tony makes a mental note to thank Wanda a thousand times. 

 

“Then she gave me you.”

 

He smiles then, soft and uncertain. Not sure in the happiness that has returned to his life. Tony can see it, plain as day, after losing all the time it’s hard to accept that life can give back.

 

“Wanda huh?” Tony hums, pleased. Tony cards his hands through Peter’s hair. They stay that way for the night, enjoying the closeness of each other and keeping each other in good spirits. Tinkering, talking, kissing. Again he feels a peaceful calm wash over him and he tries not to wonder how long it’ll last.


	2. Easy Come, Easy go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aye look we got some angst! Sorry this took so long, I was really struggling with how I was gonna end this chapter. It also took a lot out of me to write because yeah, angst can be that way sometimes.
> 
> Anyways, fair warning, there’s some boyfriends fighting, mentions of self-hate and vague mentions of suicidal ideation. 
> 
> But also cute boyfriends professing love so there’s that.

It’s a month before Tony gets back to work. Not just the building, creating and modding of their equipment, but the hero work. He spent days with his ex-wife and their daughter, spent the night a few times so he could take her to school in the morning. Peter admits to the anxiety being apart causes him, but he demands Tony continues to visit with his family and let him work through it. Peter is so grown it shocks him sometimes. As is his daughter. She’s skipped a few grades already, her brilliance and wit is the best of Tony and Pepper and he loves her all the more for it. She’s clever and calculating, not rash and impulsive like him. He thinks life is perfect, contemplates never putting the suit on again until one day at the tower a name is spoken and he knew he never really would be able to give up the Iron Man suit.

“Scorpion sighted—need back-up—“ it’s hard to hear Sam over the sounds of chaos around him. Peter’s eyes darken as soon as they hear it and Tony has never seen such hate in the kind man’s eyes. The darkness there is a stranger to Tony and when he pushes past him, silently making his way to the readying area to get suited up. Tony feels fear creeping in. He follows, quiet and unsure of what to say or do.

“Peter don’t,” Wanda hisses, her eyes dangerous. She’s there as well, getting ready in her glorious red attire.

Peter glares at her and says nothing as he makes his way to the roof. 

“Peter you fool, you want another hole in your chest?! Maybe your belly this time?! Peter!” She swear as Peter storms away and turns on Tony.

“Christ Stark are you just going to watch him go to his death?”

Tony blinks. Peter wouldn’t leave him, he thinks but the race of his heart in his chest betrays his fear that maybe he would. 

“He’ll listen to you,” her voice is more urgent now.

“He wouldn’t do anything-“

“He would Tony! You don’t know him!”

The truth of it stings. Peter is still an enigma to him, so different than the Peter Parker he took under his wing all those years ago. That Peter knew loss but wasn’t changed by it, not in a bad way. This Peter was more distant, lost to a time when all he knew was pain and loneliness. This Peter tasted death and had once longed for it. Maybe he still did. Wanda was right. Tony didn’t know, not the full of it anyway. 

So he became Iron Man once again. His heart racing as the suit swallowed him. He shook away the nerves and the memories, letting the familiar courage seep into him, the courage that he had once had while in this suit. 

He jetted away from the Avengers Tower toward Peter Parker.

Watching Peter fight now was an incredible thing. The clumsy boy was now an elegant man, his moves precise and powerful. He was a weapon quick and brutal, more fierce than Tony had ever seen. He watched Peter tear a man’s arm off and toss him aside like paper before swinging after Scorpion.

He roared his rage, it was almost tangible in the air.

“Get him out of here,” Sam’s voice demanded gravely over the comms. Peter had turned him off, shut them out. Even Tony. It stung. Peter was flying through the air, dashing after his aunt’s murderer. Scorpion stopped and turned, stinger coiled and ready to rip Spider-man apart.

Tony didn’t hold back when he slammed into Peter. He could take it. They smashed into a building, and Peter stood, ripping off his mask.

“Don’t get in my way, Stark!” Peter’s eyes were fire.

Tony’s mask retracted. “Peter, don’t do this.”

“Do what?! Kill the man who murdered my aunt and carved a hole into me?! He deserves more than death!” Peter glared. “I will not let you stop me from killing him Tony.”

Tony flinched at the harshness in his voice. The boy he knew was not a killer. Would not rip a man’s arm from him. Peter Parker was supposed to be gentle. Good. Pure.

“Kid-“ 

Suddenly Peter’s feet were in his chest, sending him flying into a wall so abruptly his helmet barely had time to cover his face. 

“I am not that boy! I am not a child!” Peter kicked him as he rose and Tony blocked, grabbing his ankle and tossing him away. Peter landed gracefully, sticking to the wall. His webs shot out clinging to crumbled stone. The Spider-man spun, his momentum rocketing debris at Tony. Tony blew them up, but Peter followed behind them with a flurry of punches, kicks and webs. It pained Tony deeply to fight him, to see the man carved by pain and death trying to do him harm. Was this really the man who had taken his body a month ago? The same man who had let Tony fuck into him, share his bed, touch his scars?

He steeled himself. This was his Peter. He just had to make him see sense if it meant pounding it into him, so he fought without holding back. It seemed to go on forever, neither of them winning, both of them losing. Tony was tired, his armor damaged, his eyes stung with tears at seeing how beaten Peter was. Scorpion was gone, the killer escaping while they fought and it was only then that his strength waned, his punches losing their bite and speed.

It wasn’t until Tony shed his armor, and stared at Peter that it all stopped. Peter had been just about to punch when the armor fell away, leaving only the man and he had barely been able to catch the punch. Tony grabbed him, squeezing him close. 

“Come home, Pete.” 

Peter was still and Tony felt a sudden pang in his chest. Would Peter return with him, let Tony nurture his wounds, would they talk, hold each other? Would Peter let Tony be his escape from this cruel world?

Or would Peter turn away from him? Were they over before they had ever really begun? Too different than Tony had thought? Was he just a fool, a dead man trying to comfort a broken man? What could he do for Peter if he was really being honest with himself.

Peter’s body began to shake, and it was several moments before he let out groaning sobs, his fists against Tony’s chest loosened and then grabbed onto Tony.

“I can’t do this.”

Do what? Tony was so scared. How could he have let himself get hurt like this again. He was still, chest tightening. 

“Why can’t it just end.”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat. His fear welling into panic. How had he not noticed? Or maybe he had ignored the signs on purpose? Peter’s anxiety, his rage, his gadgets and wrath? Tony remembered years ago after New York when those same things had gripped him, how he wanted to give it all up. How he buried himself building things to protect him, to protect everyone.

“Peter, hey. Peter look at me!” Tony tried to sound sure, tried to give his dearest companion hope but his voice was wavering, desperate.

“You have to stop this Peter. You have to let all this go. It doesn’t have to be this way. You don’t have to feel like this.”

Peter looked up, his face bruised but already healing, his eyes wild and pained. “I have to! I can’t keep watching the people I love die! I’m weak, Tony! I’m not a hero! I’ve done horrible things, I’ve let so many people down! I hate it! I’m so filled with rage, with hate! I don’t think I can be anything else anymore.”

Self-loathing. God Tony hated to see Peter like this. Raw and exposed. It was easy to think he could overcome this, easy to assume the man’s heart and mind could heal as fast as his cuts and bruises. He was a fool. 

Tony pressed their foreheads together, his hand gripping Peter’s hair tightly.

“You listen to me and you listen good Peter Parker. That is not who you are, it is how you feel. Feelings change, pain fades, it doesn’t have to burn you and weigh you down. You are not a wrathful man, I know wrath and hate. We have both seen what evil men are capable of. That is not you.”

Tony stares into his eyes and takes a shaky breath. “You are not a boy anymore Peter, we both know that. You’re a man, a man of complexities. You may feel rage, but you also feel kindness. You may feel wrath, but you can also be gentle. So gentle. So kind. You are wise beyond your years but still growing, still learning. Don’t let it end now.”

“Tony-“

“Listen,” Tony speaks faster, his tone rushed, so much to say and he has to tell him before it’s too late. “You’re so much more than your pain. You are capable of love.”

He pauses for a moment, unsure. Quietly, he continues. “I know it. I’ve felt it. Cling to that, cling to any kindness, any joy you can until it gets easier. You make this work damnit. Don’t you leave me. You hear me? You looked me in the eyes and said you were afraid to lose me, and that goes both ways. I lost you once too, remember? Do not leave me again. It’s you and me okay? We’ll figure this out together. Just try Pete. Please.”

Peter closes his eyes, tears streaming through the dirt and grit in his face. He nods. It isn’t a pretty moment. They both ache, physically and mentally. Peter is dirty, Tony smells like sweat and heat, there is only pain and need. This isn’t how Tony wanted to have this conversation but it needs to be done, these things need to be said. 

“Let’s go home?” 

It isn’t over. There will be more fights. More pain. More darkness. Tony is okay with that. Peter is worth fighting for.

Now he just needs to make Peter believe it.

 

The following days are miserable. At first, Peter follows him everywhere like a guilty dog, haunched over, apologizing for every little thing, trying desperately to seek forgiveness for something Tony holds no grudge for. The younger man goes out of his way to earn Tony’s favor, stumbles over his words and himself. 

Then it gets worse. He doesn’t want to get out of bed. He apologizes, tells Tony he has a headache and just needs to sleep. He stays in bed for two days and Tony is running around the tower about to pull out all of his hair from anxiety. He wants to shake him, hold him, scream, beg. He would do anything to get Peter out of bed. 

Peter starts refusing food, doesn’t speak except one word responses and apologies and Tony is wracked with panic, having no idea what to do.

On the third day of this he goes to Wanda for help and her advice is insane.

“Drag him out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tony, he is a grown man wallowing in his own self-pity and guilt. Do whatever you have to, do nothing, it won’t matter unless he pulls his own head out of his ass.” Wanda says it so plainly, so matter of fact, and Tony is embarrassed he hasn’t realized it sooner.

“Quit coddling the man. He’ll get out of bed when he’s done sulking.”

It’s hard, but he gives Peter his space. Stops checking in twenty times a day (at least in person) and after another day he musters all his strength and decides to be firm. 

He marches into their room, barks at the computer to “quit with that damnable dimming it’s like a vampire’s crypt in here” and the room floods with light as the window tint fades. It’s hard not to falter when he sees how miserable Peter is in the light of day, but Tony holds true to his plan.

“Get up, you lazy boy,” he starts. Peter groans. Starts to apologize. “No, no sorries. Get up and help me change these sheets right now.”

Peter stares at him funny for a moment, and then pulls the sheets over his head.

“Peter Parker, I swear I will throw you in the wash with these sheets if you do not get out of this bed.” He jerks the sheets away and Peter stares at him, stoic. At first Tony thinks he may have been too harsh, too demanding, may have invoked Peter’s rage.

Then he smiles, slight and laced with sadness, but it’s there. He groans as he sits up, body no doubt aching from laying in bed for almost a week.

“What-what’s so funny?” Tony asks as he studies Peter and the lazy grin that has spread across his face.

“Nothing it’s just...” he trails off, then touches Tony’s hand. It’s the first time they’ve touched since their fight. “You just reminded me of May there for a second.”

Tony feels a sad smile split across his face as he sits beside Peter on the bed, taking his hand. “Well then Peter Parker, you better get up before I summon more of that Aunt May attitude and kick your mopey butt into gear.”

Peter studies him for a second and then lays his head on his shoulder. “Yeah, okay Tony. Okay.”

It takes an hour to change the sheets, get Peter in the shower and make him eat food. He’s quiet, distant, thinking and Tony would give anything to know what troubles run through his young companion’s mind. Tony tries to keep the mood light, and everyone has the good graces not to remark on his absence, except Wanda who mutters, “Look who had the decency to join us,” when Peter enters the magnificent kitchen where the mad woman is making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Can I have one?”

Wanda mutters something about him being more of a Spider-brat than a Spider-man, but makes him a sandwich with a pleased grin. They all chat lightly, and it isn’t until evening comes and he and Tony are climbing into bed that Peter begins to speak his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” before Tony can tell him not to apologize Peter gives him a glare. “Don’t tell me not to apologize. This time I’m sorry for you, not for me. I’ve been stressing you out and I’m sorry for treating you poorly. I can’t say it won’t happen again, but I can say I’m going to try. I’m going to try to see the good you see in me, try to see the good in life that’s still here. I’ve been a dick. I can do better. I will do better.”

He’s hesitant for a moment, and then he kisses Tony. Soft, searching. Tony returns the affectionate gesture, and he tries to pour all the comfort that he can into it. No urgency, no expectations, just support.

“Tony,” Peter hums against his lips, then he’s pressing all in, getting as close to the elder as possible and Tony feels like he may be crushed with the need of Peter’s kiss. “Make me feel whole, please, if only for a while.”

Tony nods. “Yeah baby, I can do that for you.”

Peter always flushes when Tony uses pet names and now is no different. His cheeks dust pink, he tries to hide his face in Tony’s neck.

“Peter,” Tony dips down, licking the shell of his ear, one of Peter’s most sensitive spots. “Don’t hide from me pretty boy.”

Peter does as he’s told and looks dead at Tony. Tony feels like all the emotion he sees in his lover’s eyes will swallow him, feels like he could drown in his pain and drift away with Peter into the darkness. 

But Peter isn’t darkness. He’s light, he’s the man who gave Tony hope, who grew into his heart. The man who can relate to Tony better than anyone else. His loss, his hate, his suffering. Those things are not new to Tony.

“You trust me, right Peter?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Fuck. Peter knows what he’s doing. They’ve played this game before, but this time it’s different.

“Good. Then before we go any further, before I make you come undone, I want to hear you say one thing for me. Can you do that, darling?”

Peter is blushing furiously, but curiosity stirs in his pretty eyes. “Anything.”

“Tell me what a good boy you are?”

Peter looks confused. “I don’t...I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Tony promises, his fingers reach out, touching, soft on Peter’s lips. Peter looks as aroused as he is confused.

“I...I’m a good boy?”

“Mmm, now like you mean it.”

Peter looks helpless for a second. “Help me understand.” He whimpers.

Tony smiles, carding his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Come on now Peter. You listened so good for me today. You made yourself eat to be strong for me, helped me clean these sheets so we could ruin them together, got all cleaned up and smelling good so I could make you dirty and slick. Now, darling,” Tony purrs all silk as he watches Peter take in the praise. “Tell me how good you are, how good you will be.”

Peter is slow to start at first.

“I...” he trembles a bit and Tony worries he is asking too much, pushing to hard, but Peter takes a deep breath and locks eyes with Tony and Tony feels his heart well with joy at the resolve he sees there. “I was good today. I got out of bed, I made myself clean, I washed the sheets, I ate food. I’ll do it again, and again, anything to have you look at me the way you are right now. I want to you always feel proud of me, I will not worry you, I will be good. So good. Every day as much as I can. For you...for me. For us. For everyone else.”

Peter’s eyes are welling and Tony kisses away the tears that threaten to fall, hoping Peter remembers when he did this for Tony, that this, that everything between them goes both ways. He hopes Peter knows that together, they can comfort and nurture each other.

“Good, so good,” Tony kisses him soft, praising and then dirty and rewarding. “Let me spoil you, hm?”

“Tony-“

“Peter.” Tony cuts off his protests. “I want to do this for you, hm? You’ve helped me, given to me, now let me return the favor.”

Peter grips him, his eyes hungry. “Yeah, okay. Okay Tony.”

Tony goes to dive in for a kiss but Peter stops him with a quiet, “wait.”

Tony looks at him and Peter is red, his eyes unsure for a moment as he struggles to find his words.

“I...I love you, you know? I mean, I have for a while but I think I was in love with a ghost, with a hero, a man I didn’t even really know. Now, I know I love you. Your kindness, your courage, your patience, your firm tone and gentle touch.” Peter is embarrassed, rambling a bit. “You don’t have to say it back. I know everything has changed for you, and I’m not what you had before, and I’m not easy-“

“Peter, if you let this beautiful moment be ruined by your self depreciation, I swear,” it’s a hollow threat, not really a threat so much as a playful reminder. 

“Right, right.” Peter chuckles.

“Good, now, I think you were professing your undying love for me.”

Peter groaned and laughed, the sounds felt good in Tony’s ears and he pulled the man close to him, kissing him. When he peeled away to respond, he spoke against his lips.

“I love you too, Peter. You’re not the same boy I knew. It was your bright-eyed enthusiasm that brought you to me, and you may think you have changed, but I still see you under all that pain. You’re still kind, clever and eager. I wouldn’t trade this for anything that was, I want you as you are now, as you will be, and I can’t wait to watch you continue to grow. I’m sorry I missed the last five years, but I’m here now, and you’re not getting rid of me. I’m not missing anything else.”

Peter’s eyes welled and Tony laughs. It was sweet that Peter felt all his emotions, every one with an intensity and sureness that made Tony feel like he could do the same, like he was allowed to feel and express himself just as freely. 

“You better record that, those would make good wedding vows,” he wiped away his tears, “Although we should probably have some more time and at least two more good fights before we start talking marriage.”

Tony laughs at Peter’s grin and they kiss, quick and filthy, trying to catch up for the last few days. The kiss is overwhelming, they’re both raw with emotion and it shows in the way their lips touch, the way their teeth clink and their tongues curl, in their bites and moans. Tony can feel Peter giving under him, letting himself be taken and Tony wants to fill him, pour all his heart into this man and make him full. 

So he does. Or tries to.

They make quick work of clothes and it isn’t long until Tony is blanketing himself over Peter. Covering him in kisses, tongue sliding over his cock, fingers digging, pressing. Peter takes it all in eagerly, shivering and moaning. Tony’s favorite part about fucking Spider-man; his powers dial the intensity up twice as high. Peter is oh so sensitive to every touch, lick, kiss and bite. It’s easy for Tony to have him writhing beneath him. Their first time Tony had let Peter have his way with him, but the first time Tony did the same thing with Peter? The younger man came twice that night. Being young and hyper-sensitive definitely had it’s perks if you asked Tony, although it made him feel old.

Peter is writhing under his tongue as Tony mouths his way over Peter’s hips, across his thigh, licking and biting into his sensitive, muscled flesh.

Peter whines as Tony sucks a spot high on his thigh, close enough to his cock that Peter can feel his breath ghosting over him. “Please Tony!”

Tony loves to hear Peter beg and usually he would drag it out, make Peter plead for it, but tonight is about giving, so Tony laps a stripe up Peter’s cock, from base to tip before swallowing him down eagerly. Tony enjoys the salt of him, the weight, the heat, the stretch of his jaw and the tremble of the younger’s legs. Peter lets out a wrecked sound, hands going to Tony’s hair. He watches the elder as he sucks him off.

“Ah fuck, ah Tony so good~ oh God,” his head lolls back, unable to fight the waves of pleasure. Tony pops off and Peter whines, frustrated.

“Wha-“

“Watch me baby. Watch me suck you off, look how much I love you. I want to make you feel so good, so watch for me darling.” Tony purrs, licking the head of his need.

“Ah-yeah okay-anything-oh god, oh fuck-yeah. Yeah anything you want Tony.” Peter watches him, worrying at his lip, eyes hooded, skin flushed and bright.

Tony tries to make a show of it, taking his time to try to suck him off just right, not wanting him to come but wanting him close. It’s easy with Peter, it doesn’t take too long before the younger is trembling, his stomach taunt and fists clenched on the edge. He’s so sensitive, always so sensitive, and Tony loves it more than anything.

Tony pulls off of him and Peter swears, eyes desperate.

“T-Tony?” His breath is coming out in light pants.

“Hmm, c’mere pretty boy, want you to come off the feeling of me filling you up.”

Peter groans and sits up, pressing his lips against Tony’s, tongue diving, tasting himself, musky and heavy. It makes him harder.

“Nn, the lube,” Tony grunts and Peter hurriedly reaches for it, handing it to him.

“Ugh, finally,” Peter grins playfully.

“So eager, Mr. Parker.” Tony squeezes some of the lube onto his fingers.

“Only for you, Mr. Stark,” he hums, hips canting. 

Tony presses a finger into him, teasing and probing at his warmth. Peter whines, eager as always. It’s an awkward angle, fingering Peter open while he straddles his hips, his arms draped over Tony’s neck. So Tony stops, pressing him flat on his back and spreading him open.

“Mr. Stark, don’t play with me,” his eyes are a little wild and Tony almost thinks it a warning. On another day Stark would have pushed his luck, goading Peter to see what promise lies behind that look but today he is good. Today he wants to please, wants to fill Peter up with happiness, wants to see him shine and bask under Tony’s affections.

So he presses in another slick finger, making quick work of stretching Peter open. He’s tight, it has been days since they made love, a few weeks since Tony fucked him. Peter was surprisingly relaxed, despite the stress of the last week and soon he is loosened up enough that he asks Tony, so sweetly, to please just fuck him.

Tony withdrawals his fingers and lines up his cock, the head teasing against Peter’s slicked hole. 

“Please,” Peter says, barely above a whisper.

“Please what?”

Peter glares. Tony winks and slams into him, melting the annoyance off the younger’s face. The slack-jawed look that he wears instead is absolutely perfect, Tony thinks.

The sex is slow and intimate. They have a tendency to be fast and rough and violent in bed, both of them usually like a little pleasure with their pain. Still, at times like this, Tony likes the slow, easy closeness of this sex. The soft whines and whimpers. The enthralled, sweet moans. The mewling praises and pleasures being sang into open mouths and pressed against hot skin.

Tony comes first, a surprising, embarrassing twist of events. He makes it up to Peter by sucking him off, and when he goes to apologize Peter tells him if he doesn’t get to apologize, neither does Tony.

“Yeah, okay Pete,” he hums, pressing affectionate little kisses on his cheek bones.

“Thanks Tony.”

“Anytime kid.”

Peter scowls, but there’s nothing but love in his eyes.

“Don’t push it old man,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling and that’s all Tony can really ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about any errors. If anyone is interested in beta’ing my work, I’d appreciate it. Thanks to everyone’s excitement over this fic!! Your comments and kudos are appreciated!!


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